


Assassino

by entanglednow



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Costumes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezio has always been adventurous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assassino

Ezio awakes to the gentle clink of buckles, and the quiet but harsh sound of laces. He twists in the bed, hand stretching beneath the pillow - only to remember he is not where he normally sleeps, and his knives are on the table instead.

"Ezio, I do not think you should make a habit of sleeping with people you do not trust, mi amico. You sleep very deeply indeed." There's enough candlelight to show him the shape at the end of the bed for what it is. A slimmer, softer version of what he so often sees in the mirror. But Ezio knows the smile under the shadow of the hood far too well. He knows the long, clever fingers spotted with paint and the soft, affectionate tilt of jaw.

And there is only one man who has ever made his name sound like that.

His clothes are not a good fit, but Leonardo is nothing if not a master at making things work when they shouldn't. When they have no business working at all.

"Leonardo." Ezio draws his name out, affection and amusement.

Leonardo climbs the bed, bare knees shifting the mattress, and leaving Ezio pinned beneath the sheets.

"You appear to have stolen my clothes," Ezio says calmly.

Leonardo makes an amused noise at the back of his throat, close enough to settle on Ezio's lap, and he's a more than pleasing kind of weight.

"Stolen, borrowed, it's all a matter of argument."

Ezio lifts a hand, finds the cloth and metal of his sleeve, turning it gently to reveal the hidden blade.

"Not just my clothes, hmm."

There's a laugh inside the hood. Leonardo's fingers fly across the mechanism beneath his wrist with a swift, familiar efficiency, and not a little pride. Though Ezio can still only see the curve of his mouth and the shadow of beard and mustache.

Leonardo's head tips a little, and now there's the faint caramel of his hair, curling against his jaw.

Once he's sure the thing is safe, he lays a hand on Ezio's chest, metal cold against his skin. Safe or not, Ezio can't help but be aware of the sharpness of the hidden blade. Leonardo's palm resting on the beat of his heart. Though it's not so much fear that sharpens his awareness.

"And now that you have stolen me, what do you intend to do with me?"

"Must I do something with you?" Leonardo asks, it sounds like a perfectly sensible question.

"Oh, yes," Ezio says with a laugh.

Leonardo's bare thighs press into his hips, warmth, and tease. The smile changes, grows tighter at the edges, something proud and mocking. It takes him a dizzying second to realise it's a version of his own.

Yes, Ezio thinks he likes this very much.

He lifts his hands until he can catch Leonardo's waist, it takes little to pull him down, and he muffles the inventor's laughter under his own mouth. The inside of the hood is warm, though he's not tempted to push it back. The smell of paint and the oil that Leonardo uses on his hair is close and sweet. He would keep him there and investigate how his clothes fit tight to the narrower lines of Leonardo's body. But Leonardo laughs and tugs at his grip.

Ezio can refuse the other man nothing. He lets his hands slip free, with a strangled, unhappy noise, and Leonardo straightens, laughing.

"Is that how you treat your women, Ezio?"

"They are not my women," Ezio protests. Though he will allow that there have been women, _many_ women.

Leonardo smiles, though there's a tilt to it that looks mischievous. "They are your women, Ezio, whether you intend them to be or not."

Ezio can't resist lifting a hand again, touching Leonardo's hair. He trails the warmth of his throat with his knuckles, all the way down and under the high collar, to the gentle curve of his collar bone.

"I let them do whatever they want," he offers.

The smile goes up at the edge, something curious and teasing and clever.

"Would you let me do that, Ezio? Would you let me do whatever I wanted?" Leonardo's fingers pass over his mouth, stray back to the scar at the corner, as if drawn there. "Whatever I wished with you?"

"Anything," Ezio promises, though there's more challenge there than permission. Leonardo laughs, but there's steel under the softness. The same sharp, distracted look to his eyes, as if he's always planning something. Something Ezio could be, if Leonardo only knew the right places to push.

Leonardo rises, shifts one knee, then the other, cloth dragged down and away from Ezio's skin in slow, warm slides. The sheets flutter down the bed, and the room is warm, but not half as warm as Leonardo. His skin prickles when the air of the room hits it.

"Because I would take nothing you did not give freely." Leonardo's fingers follows the curve of his ribs, the softness of his waist, thumb sliding over his hipbone. His hand strays inwards, palm finally pressed down where he needs it most.

"Then I give everything," Ezio says simply, head falling back against the pillows.

Leonardo looks up at him. "You should be careful what you promise."

"The courtesans can be persuasive and enthusiastic with the skills they have learned." Ezio winds a leg round Leonardo's hip, the laces of his own tunic pressed into his knee. He tugs him down between his thighs. "I ask them questions, and they teach me things. Curious, adventurous things."

Leonardo inhales a sharp little breath when Ezio tightens his legs and refuses to let go.

"Do what you will with me."


End file.
